


home-made stars

by survivalinstinctvalkyria



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-Down Character (s), Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff, M/M, look I just want them to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:24:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivalinstinctvalkyria/pseuds/survivalinstinctvalkyria
Summary: ❝ The candles on Keito's drawer are still blurry when he opens his eyes, and with everything so bright and lovely around him, it's only natural that he likens them to home-made stars. ❞





	home-made stars

**Author's Note:**

> It might be ooc but they're twelve and I want them to be happy you can't stop me
> 
> I think my favoritism towards Keito's brother and Eichi's mother will start to front soon
> 
> You can't blame me for what I write at 3 am

Dinner is always different at the Hasumi household. For once, Eichi gets to listen to a genuine conversation between family members, even if it's slightly strained by his presence. For once, no one dictates what he can eat, so he gets to indulge in Hotaru acting the part of 'cool big brother’ and sneaking he and Keito extras, to which Keito pretends to be indifferent, but he still diligently gobbles it down.

Like usual, Keito's father preaches about all the things his son do in the spare time (or just archery and calligraphy, because he _can't_ know that Keito draws manga, but that's alright because Eichi still earnestly tells Keito how cool it is, which gets Keito to blush and turn away cutely) to Eichi, and then preach about all the things he's heard Eichi does to his own sons.

Keito's mother is quiet, but she's nice and pats his head and calls him pretty. Also, she's supposedly friends with Eichi's mother, which is a feat in itself, because Eichi never thought he'd see the day that someone refers to his mother with her first name, even with an honorific tacked on.

“How's your mother doing?” she asks, to which Eichi says something to the effect of _I have no clue but I'm sure she's doing well enough,_ which gets her to smile, and make another comment on how cute Eichi is.

Eichi can tell she's being genuine about it, because she always looks him over intently before complimenting him, and even though he's twelve and therefore should hate being called things like cute or pretty, the fact that someone is giving him a heartfelt compliment makes it something for him to enjoy.

“Isn’t he pretty, Keito?” she asks her son, who instantly pales. Poor Keito has it worse, because no twelve year old wants to be stuck in a limbo where he's constantly forced to affirm that yes, his best friend is cute, and pretty, and smart, and sweet.

“Yes,” Keito mumbles, eyes darting around Eichi's figure but never meeting his gaze. “You've asked me before.”

Hotaru laughs and smirks at his brother. “It'd be nice if Eichi-kun was our little brother, wouldn't it?” When Keito tells him that would be impossible, Hotaru only grows more cunning, evident from the shift of his brows. “You could make it happen. There's a such thing as a brother in law, you know.”

That gets him a violent kick to the shin from Keito, a distressed look from his mother, and a choked “Hotaru—!” from his father, that soon evolves into a full-on lecture about how he shouldn't make those kinds of comments around the very impressionable heir of the Tenshouin family, who, _obviously,_ has no idea what that implies (he does, and he doesn't mind, but it's not like he can say that).

Soon, both of the adults have their attention directed towards Eichi, leaving their sulking eldest son to bask in his own shame, and a torrent of apologies surges towards him, which makes him feel a bit melancholy, because he doesn't want to be treated like some sort of outsider.

He smiles and tells them he doesn't mind at all, before smiling at Keito, who reads the mischief, earning Eichi his own kick to the ankle.

It's discreet enough that they can just bicker with their eyes, so neither of them get yelled at for it. Soon enough, they all finish eating, and Eichi is dismissed alongside Keito. Rather than getting up, however, Eichi stays seated and speaks up.

“May I help out with dishes?”

The two parents give him wide-eyes looks, like cats, and begin to usher out their insistence that he of all people shouldn't feel obligated to do that. But Eichi's a brat, so in the end, they let him do it, and send Keito along to help.

After collecting the dishes, the two of them stand in front of the sink, but instead of instantly getting to work, he stands back and waits for Keito to start.

“Why did you insist on doing the dishes if you don't know how to do it?” Keito complains, but he still gently forces a sponge into Eichi's grasp, and holds that small, smooth hand in his own stocky, calloused hand, taking one of the plates in the other and guiding Eichi through the process.

“Today was Hotaru's turn to do the dishes,” Keito whines, still holding onto Eichi. “And, ugh, why is my mother so obsessed with you? It's embarrassing.”

“You don't think I'm pretty, Keito?”

“I think you're pretty annoying.”

They bicker like that the entire time they do the dishes, and Keito only stops his complaining when Eichi presses his cold, soapy hand to Keito's chest. That's just for a moment, however, before he starts up again, rinsing and drying Eichi's hands himself, and then throwing his friend over his shoulder with a surprising strength.

Only his upper body possesses that strength, it seems, because he legs tremble under the added weight, and he seems ready to topple over at a moment's notice. Eichi doesn't mind, though — he's come to love how Keito isn't afraid of him, how he doesn't hesitate to scold, or lecture, or even through Eichi over his shoulder like this. Eichi loves it, and by extension he loves Keito, therefore, he's pretty sure he can trust him, so instead of clutching his shirt or shaking in fear, he flails in amusement, laughing joyously and absolutely loving how the tremors of his body get Keito to stumble slightly. His eyes form little half-moons of delight, and because of this and how everything is shaking, he finds that the candles in the living area look like homemade stars.

Keito finally collapses, but not before hoisting Eichi up and into the counter so that he can fall into the blonde's chest. There's a moment of just panting, before Eichi hears him wheeze, and then break out into a glorious laughter that reminds Eichi that they actually are twelve year olds.

“You need to eat more,” he scolds between gasping breaths, his shaking body only coaxing Eichi back into laughter. “You're too light.”

“You're too weak,” Eichi retorts.

They make their way to Keito's room slowly, basically just a single wheezing unit. Eichi goes to brush and change first, which leaves Keito to get out the futon for him. Keito breaks for the bathroom the first chance he gets, so no one's around to criticize Eichi when he tumbles into Keito's bed instead of the futon, drunk on the joy that seems to permeate between the two of them.

Keito makes a dull noise of frustration when he returns and finds his bed occupied, but it quickly turns to resignation. Moving across the room to his desk, he gets out his sketchbook, and tosses it to Eichi.

“It's been so long since we last hung out,” Keito complains, actually getting close to Eichi for once.

“Too long,” Eichi agrees, happy to let Keito nuzzle up against him. Like this, he doesn't have to think about how his mother is going mental, his father is maybe dying, his grandfather should be dying, and he is definitely dying. He only minimally criticizes Keito's drawings, and mostly just showers him with praise, his heart secretly warming every time he catches Keito trying to hide his satisfaction at Eichi's approval.

“Ooh, this one's romantic.”

Keito instantly flushes with shame at that, but it's not like Eichi's actually making fun of him. Something warm pulses in his chest, and he sighs contently when his eyes gloss over the two character's fated kiss.

“Aah, you're lucky that you get to fantasize about your future romances, I'm gonna die before my first kiss.”

The sheets ruffle behind him as a result of Keito's awkward shuffling, and Eichi's left dumbfounded for a moment when Keito tells him to get up and turn around.

Once he's sitting cross-legged in front of Keito, he feels two calloused hands brush against his cheeks, gently brushing the hair out of his face before holding him steady. For some reason, all of the cuts from Keito's archery practice feel pleasant against his skin when they're coupled with an electric thrill that spirals through Eichi when Keito leans closer so that they're lips are hovering right next to each other, and asks if this is alright. Eichi doesn't bother to say anything back, balancing against Keito's chest to kiss the corner of his mouth, pulling back just in time to catch Keito while the other boy still has the adrenaline to pull him back and brush their lips properly.

It doesn't really feel like anything, except it's Keito who's holding him and allowing them to share their first kiss, so it's instantly a tender, loving thing that calms Eichi's heart down just enough for him to not die.

His servants would probably die from shock if they saw this, but Eichi couldn't care less, because he's buzzing on the happiness of being around the one person who makes him feel human, mixing and blurring the lines of affection in his head, because, honestly, what's the difference as long as it's with Keito?

Keito's face is still red when he shoos Eichi to the futon, turning out the lights and glaring at Eichi until he's certain that Eichi's got the message: _go to sleep._

Eichi gets it, and complies, passing out into the thick comforter that Keito provided, hoping to be met with vivid dreams of more happy times with Keito.

Instead, as unconsciousness overtakes him, he gets the sense that he's drowning in the blankets, and that his lungs are collapsing under his skin, and maybe that's the sound of his mother crying in the background, but he can't be sure, because the muddy sensations that envelop him are actually a nightmare, a nightmare that causes him to squirm and whimper quietly, and a nightmare that forces him awake.

“Eichi?” he hears Keito's drowsy tone, and wonders what time it is. “Were you having a nightmare?”

Faintly, Eichi affirms it with an _mhm,_ embarrassed at falling victim to something so immature while in the presence of another person.

He feels a weight plop down atop him, and realizes that it's the weight of Keito's blankets when the comforters lift to let Keito inside, the same blessed Keito who holds him close and strokes his back. He's only ever been comforted after a nightmare once, when he was five, and that was only because he was subconsciously throwing a tantrum and his mother happened to be home and feel guilty enough to cradle him in her arms.

This is better, though, because it's out of compassion, not guilt. Eichi coos, breathing in slowly, and getting a breath full of Keito's scent, comforting and just heady enough to remind Eichi that everything's okay, Keito's got him.

“You smell good,” he mumbles, planting himself right into Keito's neck.

“You don't?”

“Nah, everything around me is either sterilized or smells like medicine, it's no good.”

“Really?” Keito takes a whiff of Eichi's hair. “I think you smell like something floral.”

“Huh. That's nice.” It really is, because Eichi wants to make Keito pleased, because he loves having Keito's arms wrapped around him like this. “It's probably from all the time I spend in the gardens drinking tea.”

“Yeah.” Keito sniffs Eichi once more, and then tucks his forehead into Eichi's shoulder, letting Eichi tangle their legs so that they really are just a bundle of skinny limbs. “Don't wake me up.”

“I won't.”

He feels Keito nod slowly, before his breathing evens out, and he falls asleep in Eichi's arms. The slow rise and fall of Keito's chest is comforting, so comforting that Eichi can't keep his eyes open for even five minutes longer.

They're awoken by the sound of Keito's father's subconscious shriek when he finds his son curled up with the _heir to the Tenshouin conglomerate_ the next morning _._ It doesn't bother them much, though, because at least they're still wrapped up in each other's scents, and before Keito can be dragged out of bed and into seiza, Eichi hugs him closer, still feigning sleep as he keeps Keito trapped in the futon.

When Keito's father finally resigns with a promise to be back soon, Keito sighs in relief, whispering a thank you to Eichi, who hums, buzzing with warmth and elation, and loving it, even if it may be too much for his weak heart.

The candles on Keito's drawer are still blurry when he opens his eyes, and with everything so bright and lovely around him, it's only natural that he likens them to home-made stars.


End file.
